


A Soulmate AU One

by wipfics



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Healing, Independent Castiel, Injury, M/M, Modern Era, WIP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 08:12:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15214868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wipfics/pseuds/wipfics
Summary: Summary: A Soulmate AU, where soulmates injuries are reflected on their mate's bodies as well. It took a few years for Castiel and his family to really understand what his mate's home life might be. It isn't until his mate is stabbed, though, that he decides it's time to find him.





	A Soulmate AU One

**Author's Note:**

> The account posts unfinished fics from several different authors who now have no idea where to go from where they've stopped. The goal is to mainly share and have fun. The second goal is to receive feedback, ideas, and inspiration to one day finish the fic. This account will only accept and pass along constructive criticism along with suggestions and compliments.
> 
> Trolls need not continue beyond this point.
> 
> If you would like to have your unfinished fics posted for help/inspiration, email wipfics@gmail.com!
> 
> This fic stops abruptly.
> 
> The author is willing to gift this fic to someone else if another author wishes to finish the story themselves. If you love this enough to want to make it your own, please email wipfics@gmail.com.

Castiel was three when they found out.

Some people didn’t have a soulmate at all. Those weren’t very common, but those who didn’t have a soulmate really didn’t care. It was actually a relief to them. Society used to view those people as broken in some way – or worse, soulless whores. However, as more and more people became open-minded as the soulmate gods kept doing whatever the hell they wanted, more and more accepted it. Aromantics were just themselves. That was okay. They also tended to end up in higher-ranking positions, a lot of the time in law enforcement or government, as they tended to not be nearly as easy to manipulate. Nor did they have a soulmate to be used as leverage from the enemy.

The majority of people did have soulmates. The connection was there, but generally small. The further away their soulmate was, the harder it was to feel them. Sometimes, the connection and bond were so small, soulmates wouldn’t bother looking for the other. Most people, however, spent a lot of time and money going on epic journeys to find their “one true love.” People called them the Lover’s Sabbatical. Disney made movies about it, documentaries from all over the world have been made about it, thousands of hit songs over it, and there was even a television channel dedicated to it. A Lover’s Sabbatical was more popular than reality tv. It was also a romantic notion, and most people go on one right after college, traveling abroad trying to follow the connection.

There were some off, rare cases of soulmates. Such as a soulmate being born twenty years after the other – and in those cases, there were unbelievably strict laws. There were a few cases of multiple soulmates, which almost always ended in drama and someone being broken. Then, of course, there was the matter of soulmates being paired, but one of them having an extreme mental disorder or similar and cannot legally consent. Their soulmates generally ended up being the caretaker of the other, and it was usually very sad.

Then there were the rare cases of profound soulmates. These were soulmates whose bodies didn’t just reflex what was done to their counterpart’s or felt a fraction of what their counterpart felt physically. They felt it completely, and also felt a fraction of it emotionally as well. An emotion so strong and consuming in their soulmate, that they feel some of it too. In the rarest of cases, the soulmates could form such a profound bond, they could sometimes know the other’s thoughts.

Scientists were always stumped by this, but then again, scientists were generally stumped when it came to anything soulmate related. They were making great advances and would probably have had figured it out if more soulmates agreed to be test subjects. However, and understandably, most soulmates were too afraid of losing each other to do so.

Castiel’s screams that broke the peaceful night were cries of severe pain. His mother Anna rushed to him in a panic, and at first, she was baffled by the burns on his body. Her husband, Michael, had followed quickly behind Anna and was the first to realize what was going on.

Castiel’s soulmate was being burned.

They rushed their son to the hospital, calling a babysitter to sit and watch their three other children. The burns were second-degree, but with the right medical treatment, he would fully heal without any scars. With the assistance of child protective services, the police, and other hospitals, Anna and Michael searched and searched for another little boy or girl admitted with second-degree burns in the same spots as Castiel.

There weren’t any. Though they lived in a rather larger city, it could still only mean one thing. There were no doubts from anyone that Castiel’s soulmate lived close by with how bad his burns were, with how intensely he felt the pain, which meant whoever his soulmate was, was not getting any medical attention.

The news ran the story for a week, asking people with any information to please come forward, to help find this presumed child. However, nothing came of it.

What worried Anna and Michael the most, however, was Castiel. When he came to in the hospital, for whatever reason, Castiel was convinced his mother was dead. For months afterward, he clung to her. Mourned her and grieved her despite her being alive. It was clear to the Novaks that whoever Castiel’s soulmate was, they were probably in a fire that killed their mother. Along with this, Castiel had taken it upon himself to try to help take care of his older siblings, saying he needed to watch out for them. It broke Anna’s heart for his soulmate and made Michael wary that his son was one of those rare soulmates capable of such an astronomical bond.

As he grew, Castiel did a much better job of sorting out what were his emotions, and which weren’t. It took a few months for the Castiel they knew to come back in full force – his soulmate clearly coping with their loss. When he was old enough to understand the more complicated aspect of his bond, Castiel started therapy. His mother thought it was imperative that he maintained his mental health if he was going to be so connected to a stranger. His father wanted to learn how to control as much of it as possible, as Castiel was going to feel his soulmate much more intensely than most people.

Castiel, however, just wanted to learn to be his own person. An individual. Someone who was complete without such a rare and strong pairing.

It turned out to be the best decision they could have possibly made.

_______________________

Over the years, Castiel grew to think of his soulmate as the clumsiest person on the earth. He’d go weeks without anything, then wake up in the morning with a bruised side, or bruised knee, or scraps on his palms. The Novaks loved to laugh at it. One time, Castiel woke up with a bruised and sore jaw, and his brothers laughed that it looked like his soulmate sucker punched him.

One morning, Castiel woke up to a fractured ankle and a handprint bruise on his upper arm. That shot red flags up everywhere, but after hours reenacting all possible scenarios for the injuries with his brothers Luc and Gabe, they concluded that the bruise was made by someone trying to stop his future lover’s fall. That had to be it, right?

“Just think, Cassie. If they didn’t have whoever it was watching out for them, you could have woken up with a broken leg.”

Another time when Castiel was ten, he went to school perfectly normal and came home with a black eye, bruised knuckles, and a split lip. His parents took one look at him, then threw their hands back laughing, knowing good and well that Castiel was not the one who got into a fight.

“Your soulmate has got to be a boy,” Anna said.

“If not, then she’s going to be one badass chick,” Michael replied.

“Nah, totally a guy,” Gabe piped up from where he, Luc, and their sister Hannah sat at the kitchen table.

“Do you think he won?” Luc asked, studying Castiel.

“Look at his knuckles,” Hannah added, sounding perfectly calm. “Those look severe enough to warrant victory.”

“Here, hun,” Anna smiled, handing Castiel an ice pack. “Put that on your eye and let me see these victorious knuckles.”

Yes, they all picked fun at the apparent clumsiness of Castiel’s soulmate, but after the second presumed school fight – resulting in a bloody nose and a sore back – something happened that made Castiel take great pause.

It was late at night, a Friday night, right after his eleventh birthday. He was curled up with Hannah in the den watching the Twilight Zone, all lights turned off because of the late hour. Luc and Gabe were out with friends, probably a high school party, and their parents had already gone to bed. It was just past midnight, Castiel entertaining the idea of hitting the sack after the episode they were watching was over when a giant burst of pure, unaltered  _fear_  ran through him and made his blood run cold.

“What is it?” Hannah asked. Castiel had apparently stood up, probably too fast and fierce enough if her concerned and scared tone was anything to go by.

“It’s not me, I don’t think.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hannah,” he said, sitting back down gently, his hands shaking, “is there a reason for me to basically feel scared for my life right now?”

Hannah was quiet as she studied Castiel, then the room. She sighed, sounding sad, and said, “Is there anything we can do to help him?”

“I… I don’t know…”

Castiel’s soulmate was absolutely terrified. Remembering the advice of his therapists and doctors, Castiel leaned back, closed his eyes, and tried to calm his brain, focusing only on himself. His body immediately began to relax. His soulmate was shaking, not him. His soulmate was scared, not him. After a few minutes, Castiel brain finally started working logically again. Hannah had paused the television and was quietly watching Castiel. He didn’t know when she grabbed his hand, but he was thankful for her holding it. Once under control, Castiel focused back on his soulmate.

Something was on-going around his soulmate that was making him afraid. He was not scared because of an almost-wreck or something else that would be considered a close call but over quickly. This was a new type of terror for Castiel.

Right as it finally sunk into his eleven-year-old brain that his soulmate may be in real, serious danger, the first blow hit.

“Cas!” Hannah cried out. The force of whoever punched his soulmate sent Castiel sprawled out on the side of the couch. He sat back up gently, tenderly touching his jaw.

“Ow,” he whined, but he barely had a moment’s reprieve. He felt another blow across his temple that sent him to the floor.

“I’ll get help!”

“No, wait!” Castiel stopped her. “Don’t. Don’t do anything.”

“Castiel, you and your soulmate are being beaten up.”

“I know. I don’t know why. I just… I just know, no help. Don’t get anyone. Just wait!” he grunted out the last word as he felt someone kicking his soulmate’s stomach.

As abruptly as it started, it stopped after the seventh or so kick. Relief washed over his soulmate, and by association, himself. Castiel let out a sigh and let his head fall as he rolled over onto his back.

“Are you okay?” Hannah asked, crouching down on the floor next to him.

“I think so.”

“Is he okay?”

“I… think so.”

“What do you think happened?”

Castiel closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on his mate. Most of the guy’s emotions were under control now. There was an underlying fear still there, but also humiliation and shame.

“He didn’t fight back, it doesn’t look like,” Hannah observed, picking up Castiel’s hand and studying the knuckles.

Castiel shook his head.

“Well, it’s late, on a weekend, in the city. Maybe he was mugged or something?”

“Maybe,” Castiel sighed, sitting up. “Hannah, please don’t tell anyone about this yet, okay? I think he’s fine now, I don’t think he’s in danger. Any new bruises on my face probably won’t be noticeable from the fight earlier. I just… I need to think. Decide what’s best.”

“Okay, Castiel. I won’t breathe a word of this. This time. If it keeps happening, and you feel the full extent of the pain like this again, though...”

“Fine. Thanks, Hannah.”

She helped him clean up and gave him a long hug before going to bed. Castiel tried to follow but ended up staying on the couch all night, trying to understand what had happened.

Castiel was no stranger to his soulmate’s emotions. In fact, he could be very emotional. Castiel didn’t really remember the night of his soulmate’s fire, but his parents were positive that that night, his soulmate lost his mother, most likely in whatever fire caused his burns. Castiel received medical attention, but his soulmate didn’t, which caused the scars on both their bodies. Of course, with Castiel’s medical attention, the injury most likely was far less for his soulmate than what it would have been without it. In fact, Castiel made sure to get a lot of medical attention whenever his soulmate was injured in hopes of helping him.

He had felt his soulmate’s fear before. Had felt his anger, so much anger. Felt his sadness and grief. Felt his carefully controlled no-emotions emotion. This time, though, it was almost as though his soulmate was reaching out to him. Reaching out for help.

Castiel knew he and his soulmate were very rare, and with the strengthening of their bond, their connections could do amazing things. Or dangerous things, apparently.

By morning, Castiel had decided to learn about their bond and connection as much as he could, and by the afternoon, he asked his mother to find him a therapist who specialized in his kind of soulmate connection – Symbolons being the official term.

His parents, unfortunately, couldn’t afford more than one visit every six months or so to the Symbolon therapist. That didn’t stop Castiel from emailing her often and researching as much as he could. And paying very, very close attention to his soulmate.

By the time he was thirteen, Castiel began to wonder about his soulmate’s home life. He was beginning to believe that he wasn’t just clumsy. The fights he would get in at school, he would always have a flash of righteous anger, but then always felt guilty afterward. Almost like the behavior leading to the fight was conditioned into him, but the real him wouldn’t do that.

Before Castiel had just assumed the underlying, small fear his soulmate would feel before scraped palms or a bruised leg was that quick moment of fear and panic right before a fall or what have you. After that one night, though, Castiel wasn’t so sure anymore.

He knew his mate. Maybe he was mugged that night, but his mate wouldn’t go down without a fight. Which meant his mate somehow found himself in a place where he couldn’t fight. That scared Castiel the older and more mature he got.

Once he was more in tune with what his mate was feeling, being able to put names and recognition of the small hums in the back his head, he worked on staying attuned to what Gabe affectionately called their lover’s radio and be able to give his own life his full attention. Because despite genuinely hoping his soulmate was okay and genuinely wanting to help, Castiel was still bound and determined to be his own person. An individual.

However, being in the throes of puberty, he didn’t always succeed. More often than not, he would have to “shut down” his “lover’s radio”. Especially learning just how gay he really was. It felt like cheating, masturbating with the connection humming along. He didn’t want his mate feeling the echoes of his pleasure that was not being caused by him. Also, either his mate was asexual, or thought along the same lines, as Castiel never felt his mate’s pleasure like that either.

Castiel prayed for his soulmate more than he actively tried to help him during those years. His mate had new bruises every couple of weeks. In the years during middle school and his first couple of years in high school, his mate had received a broken hand, a broken wrist, a broken arm, several broken ribs, a fractured jaw, too many black eyes to count, two dislocated knees, a fractured ankle, and a broken foot. Once, his mate was punched right on his cheek so many times, he and Castiel ended up with twenty-one stitches.

His medical bills were high, but his parents agreed with him that they would pay for as much care as both boys needed because no one ever came to any of the hospitals with reflective injuries. Castiel had a strong suspicion that absolutely none of his mate’s bone would have ever been reset if it weren’t for him. He doubted his mate even got his own stitches, and often times Castiel found himself wondering what the cuts looked like on his mate, pitched together with invisible stitches that were on Castiel’s body. Still, Castiel always went above and beyond with the care for his body in hopes that it helped.

His mate was heading down a dark road, however, and by the time Castiel was a senior in high school, he had to make a hard decision.

He wanted to be himself. His own person. However, liked it or not, he wasn’t – not really. He felt a little buzz every time his mate got drunk or high. He knew his mate probably wanted to kill him when Castiel got the flu because could sense his frustration of being sick when he needed to do something very important. He woke up whenever his mate was having nightmares. His mate sometimes would be so hungry, Castiel would stuff his own face to the point of being very painfully full to try to sooth some of the pain his mate was feeling from hunger.

Not to mention, by this time, Castiel and his family were 1000000% sure his mate lived in an abusive home. They never spoke about it, but somewhere around thirteen, the jokes about his mate being clumsy slowly started turning into silent anger and worry.

The month before school was due to start back, Castiel found himself in the ER, being carted off to emergency surgery, because his mate had been stabbed three times in the stomach. Luckily, this ER knew him and knew why he always promptly came to them for even just a twisted ankle. They knew he didn’t just need them, his Symbolon did too. Therefore, they used the super duper extra expensive, rare, Symbolon anesthesia that was guaranteed to knock his mate out as well. The police were already searching the city if nothing else but to ensure his mate would be in at least a somewhat sterile environment. Meanwhile, the surgeons were going to do everything they could to prevent actually cutting him open.

Castiel knew he was going to be okay, but what of his mate? He pushed away his terror at the idea, careful not to let it reach the hum of his mate’s presence in his mind. Castiel truly felt like he was going to lose a very giant and very important part of himself if his mate didn’t pull through. If he didn’t make it.

Suddenly, Castiel felt heartbroken for his mate. Castiel had spent years basically ignoring the bond and control the connection to leave his mate basically alone. This whole time.

For the first time in his life, as Castiel breathed in the anesthesia, he mentally reached out to the low hum of their connection, pulled on it as much as he could, and tried to send his Symbolon the thought,  _“I will save us. I won’t let this happen again.”_

_________________________

The last thing Dean remembered before he passed out was an unusual, unfamiliar, and definitely-not-coming-from-him sense of comfort and calm.

As he was pulling himself back into consciousness, that hum of comfort was still there.

That was the first thing he noticed. The second was dull pain everywhere. His head was throbbing at him, his stomach was killing him, and his whole body felt like he was hit by a truck.

His first thought was cursing the guy who stabbed him, and his second was cursing his mate for not letting him die already.

He grunted, trying to adjust his sore muscles, and wrinkled his nose at the feeling of plastic underneath him.

“Dean?” came Sam’s voice from somewhere on his left. “Are you awake?”

Dean grunted again but refused to open his eyes.

Okay, so, he was stabbed. That rat bastard. He came over to buy a pound, but stabbed Dean and ran with the product instead. They really needed that money too. Dude knew what he was doing when he stabbed Dean, which meant Dean should be dead.

It took Dean a good minute, but eventually, he had enough strength to open his eyes. He was on Sam’s bed, Sam sitting next to him in his desk’s chair. He tried to sit up, but Sam stopped him.

“Dean, you need to be still a while. It looks like your mate had microscopic surgery to save you. You should really stay in bed as long as he does.”

Dean looked down at his arms and hands, and sure enough, there were the signs of his mate being hooked up to an IV. Dean just nodded and let his head fall back and his eyes close.

“Dean…” Sam began, and Dean repressed a groan because he knew that tone.

“Don’t,” Dean moaned. “We needed the money, Sammy.”

“I know…” They both knew there was no point in having this vicious circle of conversation. There was only so much money coming in as income, and Dean did whatever he had to do to help get them by. Particularly because the money earned honestly was usual drank away before they could pay the bills. The cash Dean made on the side, however, stayed hidden from their father and kept them all afloat. Dealing drugs was easy. There was a consistent client base, Dean wasn’t in danger of using besides pot, and it wasn’t like he got stabbed every time.

Sam sighed, and Dean knew immediately what was going to follow next.

Honestly, a lot of the time, Dean forgot he had a soulmate. Almost everything was consistent with his soulmate living far away. Probably in the same country, but still far. His mate had given Dean a bruised thumbnail, a nasty dog bite, and a broken toe. These were all things that would happen to a normal human, and the only time Dean actually felt any of them was a little bit of pain from the dog bite. He and his mate still had the scar on the side of their left hands. But he never reflected on the normal bump and bruises people getting from, well, being alive. Sam always pointed out that that was probably because he was always so bruised himself, they just fit right in.

In fact, Sam was growing more and more adamant that Dean’s mate was somewhere in the city. Sam’s was, which, good for him. But Dean refused to believe his was as well. The closer mates were, the more they felt when their bodies reflected the other. Dean refused to believe his mate would put up with so much pain that Dean had to put up with. He also refused to believe that his mate would, by now, know very well what went on in Dean’s life and had done nothing to help. Not that it should be his mate’s problem, but if it was the reverse, Dean would tear the city apart looking for them. To help them, protect them.

Yet, Sam’s logic was still undeniable. A stabbing? Sure, that would be severe enough over great distances to be reflected almost in full, and his mate would have had to have gotten surgery to save his life.

But… a twisted ankle? A cut worth two stitches. Fucking  _splinters?_  His mate got  _splinters_  out for Dean. Even Dean’s sore muscles, though he never told anyone, were often soothed by his mate. After a long, hard day when his body felt like a rock, all Dean would have to do was lay down, and during the next hour, he would feel his swollen muscles shrink, the knots loosened, his bones popping in all the right areas. It didn’t happen often, mainly just during the summer when Dean worked at the shop, bar, and construction site.

Another thing Dean also never admitted to anyone was that it wasn’t just physical reflections he felt from his mate. Dean knew it was rare, but he knew it could happen. Sometimes it was barely there, like, for example, the whisper of his mate’s fear guaranteed at least once every Halloween. Sometimes that would feed Dean’s belief that his mate was far away – too far that Dean couldn’t sense his emotions fully.

Then there were times when his mate’s emotion would surge and practically slap Dean in the face with it. It never lasted more than a few seconds, but it always profound. To his count, it had only happened five times. Once, a burst of excitement and fear, kind of like what one would get on a roller coaster. Next time, it was an overwhelming sadness and grief, that Dean wondered if someone they loved had died. Another time, there was unabashed happiness, full and complete and something Dean had never experienced himself before. Then one day, it was full-throttle arousal, something that almost made Dean hard in less than a few seconds. And the last time, it was panic and fear that was quickly followed by extreme annoyance and frustration, giving Dean the impression that someone intentionally scared his mate.

Now, though, just like before he passed out, he felt a full presence in his mind. The barely there humming was gone; the hum had spread, filling a normally silent part of Dean’s mind with a steady purr that was sending ripples of comfort! and calm! and safe! These were more than just emotions his mate was feeling powerfully enough for Dean to feel. It was like they were being projected onto Dean, like a blanket wrapping him up, filling him with warmth.

Sam tried to get his attention again, but Dean was focusing on the hum - no, purr. Curious, Dean tried to… what? Reach? Pull himself to? No. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind some, then allowed his mind to  _sink_  into that purr.

Immediately, his chest was filled with a sense of relief, and Dean knew it wasn’t coming from him.

“… immediate response time. Dean, you didn’t just pass out. It was like you were put under. When I saw your stomach, I knew what they were doing, so I tried to move you as carefully as possible. I put up plastic everywhere, because, y’know, sterile and all. But… Dean, I watched the whole time. It was like they were going through extreme measures not to open you up. Like they knew if they opened your soulmate up, you would be opened up too. Like they knew it would be like, real time, not something that you could have fixed like you could if you were hundreds of miles away…”

Dean refocused back to the purr completely surrounding his mind now. He tried to mentally poke at it a little bit, tried projecting his curiosity of what was going on. Dean felt a tickle in his chest after that, something that definitely felt like amusement that wasn’t his, and then the purr of comfort!, safe!, protected! got louder, almost making Dean’s muscles turn to jelly.

Then he felt the purring doing its own poking - though it didn’t feel as though it was expecting anything of Dean. So, Dean let it poke.

“… I’m just saying, Dean, I don’t see how you could have a soul connection that is always so fucking quiet and barely there, but the moment you get a boo-boo, suddenly it’s like your mate is right next door and is able to heal you…”

A coolness spread throughout Dean’s body, getting rid of the heat he was feeling - almost like a fever. He felt a couple of small pinches in his arm, and he knew they were shots. Relief was almost immediate. His headache began to melt away, the stiffness in his bones relaxed, and some anxiety that was creeping in subsided.

Dean smiled and felt a wave of his mate’s pride as he hummed his thanks and approval through the purr.

No mates should be able to communicate and connect like this. There were rare cases of mates being able to feel and sense emotion, but not like this.

“Sammy,” Dean interrupted, finally opening his eyes and looking back at his brother. “Whoever my mate is, right now they just got the hospital to give us something for our headache, something to calm me down and to cool me off. They’re sending me these like… waves of things like “you’re safe”, but you know, not like words. I mean, dude, they are loud in my head.”

Sam was listening with wide eyes. “Okay, dude, they’re definitely here, in the city.”

Dean nodded. There was no denying it now, though a small part of him hoped his mate just got to town. Maybe on a Lover’s Sabbatical, looking for Dean? And not that his mate had been actively pushing Dean away all these years.

“But, that… that sounds like an intense connection, Dean. Are you sure? I mean, you’re basically just waking up from surgery…”

“I think it’s real. Why?”

“Dean… if it’s real, then you don’t just have a soulmate. You have a Symbolon.”

Dean snorted. “Dude, that doesn’t exist.”

“They’re the rarest, but there are documented cases.”

“Come on, Sammy, be realistic.”

“I am, Dean!”

“Dude…” Dean swallowed, trying to wave him away. “I’m tired. I’mma sleep.”

Sam sighed, but said, “Yeah. You need it.”

Sam left, only to return with some water, and resumed watching Dean from his seat. Dean, on the other hand, closed his eyes, and let himself sunk further down into the warm purr in his mind, drifting off to sleep.

When he woke again, a small part of him was relieved the purr was still there. Mostly, though, he was hungry.

It was dark, clearly the middle of the night, and he was still in Sam's bed, the plastic gone and a blanket up to his shoulders. Sammy's lanky form was asleep in his desk chair, but the desk had been pushed up against the door.

So, their dad was home.

Curiosity spiked through him, and Dean could tell his mate was trying to find out what Dean was doing. Dean reached out mentally toward his mate, and he was a little embarrassed how nice it felt to be, like, mentally held. He tenderly rolled to his side.

 _Can you hear me?_  He thought. He got more curiosity, but that was it.  _Guess not._

Humor spiked next in his mate, and he didn't know if it was toward him or not, but he still poked at the purr disgruntledly. The humor only grew.

_____________________________

Castiel was giggling. He asked for strong drugs to help out his mate, but whoa, was he high.

"It's not funny, Cassie," Gabriel griped as he straightened the chair he had just fallen out of.

"Leave him be," Luc snickered. "He's not on this planet anymore."

"It's not you," Castiel laughed. "Well, it is you, but it's also my mate. He keeps poking at me."

"How does it feel to finally have an open Symbolon?" Luc smirked, sitting on the foot of Castiel's hospital bed.

"It feels great," Castiel smiled lazily at him. "He's warm."

"You think his mate's as high as he is?" Gabriel asked Luc.

"Dunno. But what a hell of an excuse is that huh? 'No, Mom, I'm not mate, it's just my drunk.'"

"I don't think he is," Castiel said, studying his wavy fingers. "He seems rather serious right now, but I think that's just because he's trying to get back to sleep."

"Wow, that's pretty cool you know that," Luc said. "Are you seriously going to try to find him?"

"Yep," Castiel sighed, let his hands drop and closed his eyes. "I'mma find him, I'mma love him, I'mma hold him, and hug him and pet him and name him George."

Gabriel and Luc laughed.

"Next time we come back to town, Gabe, we have to get Castiel high," Luc said.

"I like it," Castiel announced. "Mate does too. He gets high sometimes." He yawned hugely then said, "You're tired, I should go," as he drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up again, it was morning, and he was decidedly sober. His mate was awake, too, he noticed right away, and through the mental connection, he could feel surprise from his mate at Castiel waking up. He also felt some relief, and Castiel smiled. He could tell his mate wasn't acknowledging it, but he relished in their connection. There was something in his mate that felt more like hope than anything else, and Castiel just prayed he was worthy of it.

He was able to be discharged that day, and the first thing he did when he got home was run up to his room to make a video to post. He felt a little excited and could feel his mate be confused by it. Castiel tried his best to tell his mate what he was doing, but he just got more confusion in return.

He sat at his desk to record via his mac. "Hi," he said to the camera. "My name is Castiel Novak, and I'm searching for my soulmate. He's been stabbed, and though I think you're okay now, you and I both know it could happen again. I think it's time we finally meet. So, if you're watching this, and you were in fire fifteen years ago, have this scar," he showed the camera his left hand where there was a scar from a dog bite, "was stabbed August 8th, and woke up to find an open Symbolon connection, please reach out? Again, I'm Castiel Novak. I'm eighteen, we live in the same city, and you can find me on Facebook. I…" he looked down at his hands, some guilt building in him and feeling his mate's increasing curiosity. "Not to get into anything publicly, but about four or five years ago, I finally understood what was happening in your life. I tried to help where I could…" he looked back up at the camera. "I've been hiding from you, and I'm sorry. I just wanted to learn and find out who  _I_  was first, and I thought I could help medically a-and stay away. I-I tried to always keep you safe, and healthy and healed. And I…" he looked out his windows, squinting. "I don't think I know who I am yet, but," he looked back in the camera, crossing his arms on his desk, "I want to learn and find that out with you. This connection…" he closed his eyes, hand on his chest, and he reached out deliberately to push out as much affection, safe, and desire for his mate to feel. It got his mate's full attention, and Castiel smiled, opening his eyes again. "I know Symbolons are rare, but I feel you. This," he tapped his chest, "is real, and god, if I knew it would feel like this, I never would have hidden from you. Right now," he couldn't stop his lips from quirking, "you're trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing. You're poking at our connection. And last night, in the hospital? I had them drug me pretty good, and will continue with the pills they gave me, so you won't be in pain. But last night, I couldn't stop laughing, and it was preventing you from going back to sleep. It's truly incredible, how much of you I can feel. I'm sorry I hid for so long. Please forgive me and allow me in your life?

"As far as anyone else watching this, please forward this on, across all medias. I… I'm calling it. I'm officially on a Lover’s Sabbatical, here in the city. But this is more than just trying to find my mate…" he bit his lip. "To my mate, whoever you are, whatever you're doing, please stay safe. Who… whoever the person is, who hurts us? Stay strong. Stay safe. I'll find you."

Not sure what else he could say unless to ramble on more about their connection, Castiel ended the video and uploaded to every social media site he was a part of.

_______________________

Dean returned home from his shift relieved to see their father's car gone. It worried him how much he was starting to resent the man and how often he thought about fighting back.

As soon as the thoughts drifting in his mind, he felt the attention of his mate, pushing safe, calm, and righteous anger into Dean. Also, a little something else. Anticipation, Dean thought was the closest thing to call it. He had been feeling it all week; Dean was genuinely confused as to why. Their connection was strong, and Dean had no doubt that when he first sees his mate, he would know it was him. Or her, but after their connection hit the mother lode, Dean knew it was a him. Dean felt anticipation, too, wanting to meet this person, and he took long ways to work and home hoping to run into him. Dean and his mate felt disappointed every night, and Dean thought it was a little amusing how they almost comforted each other.

It wasn't all that bad, having the connection. Dean was able to give things his full focus when need be. The purr was just ever present, and Dean found that he enjoyed the company. From what he could tell, dude didn’t have much going on in his life besides a part-time job (which had to be something that dealt with the public if the annoyance Dean felt every so often was anything to go by) and self-entertainment. Dean thought maybe he was a reader.

For the first few days after the stabbing, Dean's mate, Dean decided, must have been high as fuck. The guy found everything endlessly funny, and he kept poking at Dean as though trying to get Dean to join in the fun. Whatever the drugs were, though, Dean was thankful. He felt relatively no pain and was able to move on with his life.

He went and found the punk who stabbed him, and dude's face when he saw Dean was alive? Priceless. He got his product back and plus some, and it took him no time to sell them off and pay rent. He just finished his shift at the bar, and he was looking forward to a hot shower.

As soon as he was through the door, Sam was on him with a wide smile.

"Your soulmate!" Sam exclaimed, holding up his laptop. "He's trying to find you. He posted a video, look, it's him, it has to be him."

Dean was suddenly nervous, which got his mate's attention again. He gulped. "You think?"

Sam thrust his computer to Dean, and Dean sat at their small, crooked kitchen table. Sam had his Facebook up, and sure enough, there was a video underneath the caption  _LOOKING FOR SOULMATE. WE WERE STABBED. HELP ME FIND HIM._

Swallowing, Dean shared a loaded look with Sam, who had come to stand beside him, and then Dean pushed play.

Holy shit, those were some baby blues. The guy looked to be around Dean's age, and Dean could freely admit the guy was gorgeous. No way was he Dean's soulmate; Dean had never that lucky. He was sitting in an average looking room, a twin-size bed and a bookshelf packed full in the background. When he opened his mouth, Dean decided he could really appreciate deep, masculine voices.

"My name is Castiel Novak," he said, "and I'm searching for my soulmate. He's been stabbed, and though I think you're okay now, you and I both know it could happen again." Dean bit his lip, feeling almost reprimanded, though the guy didn't look accusing. Dean was also aware he had his soulmate's full attention at the moment, and Dean couldn't help but wonder if this guy really was him. "I think it's time we finally meet. So, if you're watching this, and you were in a fire fifteen years ago," Sam gripped his shoulder, "have this scar," the guy lifted his left hand to the camera to show an identical looking scar Dean had on his left hand (Dean also noticed the hospital wristband there), "was stabbed August 8th, and woke up to find an open Symbolon connection, please reach out?"

"I told you," Sam swatted at him. "I told you it was Symbolon."

"Sh," Dean said sharply, not wanting to miss a second. Was this really happening?

"Again, I'm Castiel Novak. I'm eighteen, we live in the same city, and you can find me on Facebook. I…" the guy looked down, guilt obvious in his expression, and the tentative hope Dean had been feeling turned sour. "Not to get into anything publicly, but about four or five years ago, I finally understood what was happening in your life. I tried to help where I could…"

"He's known this whole time?" Dean spat, feeling betrayed in some way. Worried spiked from his mate.

The guy in the video looked back up, meeting the camera head-on. "I've been hiding from you, and I'm sorry. I just wanted to learn and find out who  _I_  was first, and I thought I could help medically a-and stay away. I-I tried to always keep you safe, and healthy, and healed. And I…" the guy looked away, squinting, and if Dean didn't have a shit ton of anger suddenly building in him, he might have found it enduring. "I don't think I know who I am yet, but," he looked back at the camera, resolved, "I want to learn and find that out with you. This connection…" he closed his eyes and put his hand to his chest, a look of awe on his face. "I know Symbolons are rare, but I feel you. This," he tapped his chest, "is real, and god, if I had known it would feel like this, I never would have hidden from you. Right now," he huffed a laugh, "you're trying to find out what the hell I'm doing. You're poking at our connection. And last night, in the hospital? I had them drug me pretty good, and will continue with the pills they gave me, so you won't be in pain. But last night, I couldn't stop laughing, and it was preventing you from going back to sleep."

Yep. That was Dean's soulmate, all right. And yeah, he wasn't that lucky.

"It's truly incredible, how much of you I can feel. I'm sorry I hid for so long. Please forgive me and allow me in your life?

"As far as anyone else watching this, please forward this on, across all medias." Dean looked down, seeing it had thousands of reblogs. Great. "I… I'm calling it. I'm officially on a Lover's Sabbatical, here in the city. But this is more than just trying to find my mate…" he bit his lip, and Dean looked away. "To my mate, whoever you are, whatever you're doing, please stay safe. Who… whoever the person is, who hurts us?" Dean snorted. "Stay strong. Stay safe. I'll find you."

The video ended, and Dean roughly shut the laptop.

"What?" Sam asked, looking confused and worried.

Dean gave him a hard look. "He's been in town this whole time, Sam. He's known, for years, and ignored me. Avoided me! He admitted it. So, he can fuck off."

He pushed away from the table to go stomping down the hall. He could feel his mate's confusion and concern, then understanding and guilt when Dean tried roughly to push him away. If dude could spend years hiding a Symbolon connection, which yeah, was real, Dean looked it up, then so could Dean.

"Dean, he apologized for that!" Sam said, chasing after him. "Besides, what do you expect him to have done?  _You've_  had plenty of opportunities to do something about Dad and haven't."

"This isn't about that, Sammy," Dean snapped, going into the bathroom. He slammed the door and began roughly pulling off his clothes but continued yelling through the closed door. "It takes getting fuckin' stabbed for the guy to want anything to do with me. I'm not a goddamn charity case, so he can fuck off. End of discussion."

He heard Sam sigh but ignored him as he turned on the water.

____________________________

"He's so angry," Castiel was saying. He was pacing in his room, Gabriel on Skype. "And hurt. He's really hurt, Gabe."

"Cassie, you haven't done anything wrong."

"It feels like I have," Castiel barked at him. His own emotions were everywhere, and though his mate might be thinking he was pushing Castiel away, he was actually sharing more of himself being just as emotional as Castiel. He could still hear the loud and clear echo of his soulmate's  _'It takes getting fuckin' stabbed for the guy to want anything to do with me,'_  playing in repeat in Castiel's mind. It was breaking his heart that his mate thought that and breaking his heart that it was a little true.

"You have every right to want to develop yourself first. Why do you think Lover's Sabbaticals are even a thing? Most people wait until they're old enough to be ready for big commitments and things like that. It's unfair to put that on yourself. You're only eighteen."

"I should have reached out before this though," Castiel said. "Open Symbolon or not, I should have been there for him."

"And do what?" Gabriel asked, taking a gulp of his drink that was most likely alcoholic. "Go to the ER to stitch you both up then go over and hold his hand?"

"Yes."

"Don't be an idiot. Okay, opening up the Symbolon was a crazy generous thing to do, Cassie, especially considering you aren't even finished with high school. If you did that at thirteen, what kind of life do you think you would have now?"

"I don't know," Castiel sighed, sitting back at his desk. "He just feels so betrayed."

"He'll get over it."

"How do you know?"

"He ain't got a choice," Gabriel smirked. "He can either accept you have a right to live your own life and get over it, or he stays pissy for the rest of his life."

"He could sever the Symbolon," Castiel pointed out.

Gabriel snorted. "Sure, but over something like this? Then you sure have a hell of a dramatic mate."

That did make Castiel feel better, but he still felt terribly guilty. Gabriel bid him a good luck, and Castiel thanked him for listening. He didn't play the big brother role often, but Castiel always appreciated it when he did. He was just about to shut down his computer for the night and try to show his mate how sorry he was when a notification popped up on his browser.

Ever since Castiel made that video, he had been getting a lot of attention on his blogs. Thankfully, he wasn't getting anyone claiming to be his soulmate and wasting his time. He knew he would have felt it if his mate saw the video, and he was right. Mostly, people were asking for updates and if Castiel found him.

This time, he had a message from someone, and his heart raced when he saw the subject line in the preview.  _My brother is your soulmate._

He quickly clicked open the message.

**Castiel,**

**My name is Sam Winchester, and my brother Dean is your soulmate. I found your video on FB and showed him. As I'm sure you know, he's not very happy. You would know better than me about what he's feeling. He can get that like sometimes, but he's a good guy, I promise. And I'm sure he'll know immediately when you get this, but I thought sending a message was worth it. I believe you're genuine, and I'm sorry about my brother.**

**I did want to take a minute to say thank you for taking care of him all these years. I can't imagine what your medical bills are.**

**Feel free to reach out to me any time. I'll try to talk to Dean.**

**-Sam**

Castiel felt excitement and hope rush through him, and yeah, his mate knew something, and now Castiel was feeling defensiveness and annoyance from him. Sam was still online, so Castiel quickly friended him and messaged back.

**Hello, Sam**

While he waited for a response, he clicked through Sam's profile to get to Dean. He held his breath as he waited for Dean's Facebook page to load.

Castiel first thought was the man was beautiful. His profile picture was of him in jeans and a plain black t-shirt with a red bandana tied around his forehead. He was squatting in what looked like an auto garage, and he was smiling a wide grin at whoever took the picture. He looked incredible.

**Hey Castiel**

**I was right, Dean knew immediately when you got my message lol**

**How angry is he?**

**He'll get over it**

Castiel huffed a laugh, reminded of Gabriel, before biting his lip and trying to decide the best course of action.

First, he sent a friend request to Dean, then he wrote:

**Can you please tell your brother that I am so sorry, and if he lets me, I'll make it up to him?**

**Please tell him that it wasn't the stabbing. I've always wanted something to do with him, I just wanted to wait. I care about him, and I'll do anything to prove that.**

He waited with baited breath as the little …'s floated as Sam typed.

 

**He wants to know how you know he said that**

**I didn't know he had. He thought it pretty clearly though.**

Castiel could feel his mate's surprise then more annoyance and anger.

 

**He wants me to tell you to stay out of his head.**

**I think you should poke him until he pulls his head out of his ass.**

Castiel chuckled. He liked Sam, but he was more worried about soothing his mate. Connecting with him.

**Can you tell your brother he's very beautiful?**

Surprise flickered through his mate again, then embarrassment. Yeah, this Dean Winchester was definitely his mate, and Castiel couldn't stop the hope and excitement filling in him if he wanted to. He could practically feel Dean sigh in response to that, some annoyance and placation floating through.

**Also, tell him I know he's mad. I'll leave him alone if that's what he wants. But that I'm here. I'll always be here.**

He felt Dean's surprise once more, some more embarrassment, and, encouragingly, curiosity. The curiosity continued to grow, but the annoyance and anger were still there. He bit his lip, just barely stopping him from pleading with his mate. Eventually, Sam typed back.

**He says he'll think about it.**

 

 

 

 

_______________________

This is where the author has stopped and says they have no idea where to go from here, but they still wanted to share.

 

The author is willing to gift this fic to someone else if another author wishes to finish the story themselves. If you love this enough to want to make it your own, please email wipfics@gmail.com.

 

Otherwise, the author would love to hear ideas of where to take this fic, scenes you would like to see, and any votes on how it should it end. Chapters will be added when more is written.

 

 

If you like this original idea, be sure to leave kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: the ultimate goal of this account is to share and have fun with other writers and our readers.  
> Trolls need not comment.


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